


Barely Leashed

by firefright, Skalidra



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Canon-Typical Violence, Dehumanization, Demons, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Soul Selling, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Eleven years ago, Dick made a deal with a devil in order to avenge the deaths of his family. Now, after growing up to be a successful hunter of the supernatural and killing the demon to whom he'd promised his soul, he thinks he's safe from the penalty of being dragged down into Hell. That is until he meets Jason, another young hunter who is not at all what he first seems.He really should have read the fine print on that deal.





	Barely Leashed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first of two stories for SladeRobin Week that Fire and Skalidra have written together (the second will be posted tomorrow). Today is for the Day 2 prompts: Master/Slave and Ritual. As you can probably guess from the tags, this is not a particularly happy story, but we do hope you enjoy it, regardless XD

Jason probably should be a little more pissed when Slade's version of pillow talk is to murmur, "You know, there's a hunter in town," into his throat, just after finishing with him for the morning. At least for a round. But he's sated and relaxed and not willing to pry himself out of the afterglow, so all he does is snort and bury his head a little more firmly against the pillow.

His, "Yeah?" is probably half audible at best, but Slade hums confirmation into his skin a moment before fingers scrape down his back, following the line of his spine. "Who?"

"One Richard Grayson."

Jason lifts his head, a small thrill of excitement curling through his chest. Grayson, huh? He's never met Grayson, but he's heard of him more than a few times. Skilled hunter. Pretty face.

"Dick. He goes by Dick." He turns, and Slade lets him flip over to be on his back and look up. "Why's he in town? Is it you?"

"Doubtful." Slade's fingertips find his throat, hooking underneath the thin, black leather choker that hardly ever leaves his neck. Slade tugs, lightly enough, and Jason's neck bends under the whim. "Why don't you go bring him to me, pet? Subtly."

Not the first time he's hunted for Slade by far, and not the first time he's turned on fellow hunters at the command of his owner. It... isn't as hard of an action as he knows, distantly, that it should be. Slade may have saved him in exchange for his obedience, but Hell sinks its teeth into anything that gets dragged inside and Jason knows he was no exception.

(The time he spent as one of Slade's hounds was nothing compared to the agony and breaking of souls Hell visits on its fresh arrivals, but it did exactly what Slade wanted it to. Made him sharp, honed in ways his youth hadn't allowed before. Made him _wild_ and brought to life every buried human instinct to run and chase and _hunt_. And Slade kept him human through it, demanded his words and his mind and forced him to stay sane. More or less.)

"You want him?" Jason asks, tilting his head and studying Slade's expression. Amused, warm, and dangerous in the openly revealed, curling sweep of his horns and slitted, nearly glowing golden eye.

"You weren't interested till I said his name," Slade counters, letting go of the collar to lightly cup his throat instead. "I can see it in your eyes, pet; you want to hunt him, and that means I'm interested to see what he’s made of. Bring him to the play space, quietly. We'll see if he's worth anything."

He pushes up into the touch, enjoying how the pressure makes his breath catch (and almost more, how Slade’s mouth curls into a pleased smile). “I’ve heard he’s a damned good killer,” he breathes, and Slade’s mouth curls a little wider.

“Damned, hm?”

Jason scoffs, easing back down. “That’s not what I meant. Are you going to meet me there?” Slade raises an eyebrow. “Hey, I just want to know if I’m going to need to actually down this guy. That is a whole other situation than just luring him in; like I said, I’ve heard he’s good.”

“I’ll be there,” is the promise he finally gets, though it’s rich with amusement that’s definitely firmly at his expense. That’s not new.

Jason nods. “Okay then, glad we got that settled.” He sucks his lip thoughtfully as he looks at the ceiling, mind already starting to work on a plan.

He wasn’t exaggerating to Slade, Grayson _is_ skilled, that’s widely reported in the field. Stories vary between him being either an extremely lucky idiot, or a hardass depending on who’s doing the telling, but they all have one thing in common: Grayson never fails. He’s going to have to be careful with this one.

“A plea for help. I think that’s the way to go,” he announces to Slade. “Grayson’s a bleeding heart. If I look pathetic enough, he’s sure to come along.”

“Pathetic, hm?”

“You know, beat up. Like I’ve been dragged around a bit by something I can’t handle by myself.” 

“Ah,” Slade smirks, squeezing his fingers, “The truth, then.”

Jason rolls his eyes. The unfortunate thing is, Slade’s not even kidding a little about that. “So should I go get started on it now, or…?”

The skin of his throat throbs in the wake of the heat from Slade’s hand. For a moment, Jason can’t breathe as his master leans down to him, claiming his lips in a kiss that always makes him feel like he’s about to burn from the inside out.

“Later,” Slade purrs against his lips, “Not now.”

The heat travels further down his chest, and as his body reacts accordingly, Jason can’t help the whine that escapes his teeth.

Later it is, then.

*

Dick grimaces as he follows Jason out of the bar they’d met in and out in the dimly lit streets of the town. It’s cold outside, and as expensive at it was, his leather jacket does little to protect him from the icy bite of the wind.

He still doesn’t know exactly how Jason heard that he was here, except that this is a small town, and in small towns news travels fast by word of mouth. The relief on the other hunter’s face when he found him was obvious, though, and they had barely taken the time to shake hands before Jason was sitting down, gesturing for the bartender to bring over a couple fresh drinks while he explained his problem.

A demon as it turned out, which is a step above either a vampire or werewolf.

Dick had only had to look at the bruises and raw red patches of burns on Jason to know he was telling the truth. Even now, walking towards where the demon is lurking, Jason moves stiffly, evidently trying to hide from Dick just how badly hurt he really is.

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this tonight?” he asks, frowning. “We could wait a night, until you’ve healed a bit more.”

“I’m fine,” Jason shakes his head, “We can’t wait another night. I managed to hurt it before, but if we leave it any longer the damn monster will have the time to heal itself. Trust me, Dick, you don’t want to fight it at full strength.”

“Do you know its name?”

Admittedly, the look Jason gives him is probably what that question deserves. “If I knew its real _name_ I wouldn’t have had any problems.”

“Sorry,” Dick holds up his hands in an open gesture of apology. “Dumb question, I know. I’m just trying to get a better idea of how you want us to approach the situation.”

“With all guns blazing.” Jason says darkly. “Salt circle’s still got it trapped in there. All we need to do is finish it off.”

“Right, right.” Dick sighs, lowering his hands. Jason sure is an intense guy. He almost wonders… “This one’s kind of personal for you, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“This job, it’s personal to you.” Dick shivers as another gust of wind almost takes his ears off. He stuffs his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep them warm. “What happened?”

At the question, Jason rapidly looks away from him. That reaction alone is enough to tell Dick that he’s on the right track. “Nothing I want to talk about,” Jason answers, hand reaching up to touch his throat. “Not right now, anyway.”

“Jason—”

“Please, Dick.” he cuts him off, “I just need to get this done.”

Dick frowns at the avoidance, but ultimately tells himself to let it go. There isn’t a hunter out there that doesn’t have a story of loss or vengeance. It’s the reason most of them get into the game in the first place. Maybe this one is Jason’s.

“Okay,” he answers eventually, “But when we’re done, I’d like to get an answer from you. Consider it the price for my help.”

Jason scowls back over his shoulder at him, but in the end reclines his head in a reluctant nod. “Fine. Fine, whatever. Just… come on, it’s not much further now, and I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

The house Jason eventually leads Dick to is not at all what he was expecting. For one thing it’s only moderately sized, and situated right in the middle of town. In his experience, demons usually prefer more remote locations for their hideouts. Places where no one can hear their victims scream.

He follows Jason through the cast iron fence, into a yard that’s well kept, if not exactly immaculate. They walk down the side of the house to the back, and stop just outside the entrance to what must be the basement.

Dick sighs as he looks at the doors. “Had to be the basement, huh?”

“It’s a demon,” Jason replies obstinately, as he pulls free the steel bar he must have wedged through the handles before he left, “What else do you expect?”

To that Dick has no answer. While Jason gets the door open, he does one final catalogue of all the weapons he has on him. Blessed blades, holy water, salt, as well as a few protection charms. Combined with the guns he’d seen Jason hiding underneath his jacket earlier, it should hopefully be enough.

“Ready?” Jason says, looking back at him with his foot poised on the first step leading downwards.

Dick takes a deep breath to center himself, then nods. “Lead the way.”

Much to his relief, the basement is lit when they get down there. Nothing worse than fighting a powerful demon in a dark basement, so far as Dick’s concerned. Jason touches his finger to his lips when they reach the bottom of the stairway, and Dick nods his head, understanding the importance of being quiet now that they’re so close to their prey.

He rather wishes that wasn’t the case, though, as it quickly becomes apparent to Dick that the basement is much larger than it should be. Large enough to have more than one room.

 _Jesus_ , he thinks, trusting Jason to guide him through what appears to be a veritable maze, no wonder this one was happy to live right in the middle of town. It’s built itself a warren. Either just about the whole town has had their memory stolen of the time this was built, or this demon has been here a long, long time. Long enough to build this place piece by piece with no one living above any the wiser.

Finally, after a couple minutes of walking, they come to a heavy steel door, with a heavy line of salt laid in front of it.

 _In there?_ he mouths to Jason, who nods.

Dick draws his knives, while Jason pulls out a gun in one hand and takes hold of the door handle in the other. After a silent countdown from three, he flings it open, and together they dive inside.

It’s darker than he expects it to be, considering how well lit the rest of the basement has been. Maybe that’s why neither of them notice that the threat is no longer where Jason expects it to be. At least not quick enough for him to defend against it.

Dick pivots on his heel, just in time to see a huge figure emerge from the shadows next to the door. It seizes Jason by the throat with one hand, grabs his wrist with the other. Jason doesn’t even have time to shout before the demon is choking him, twisting his hand and forcing him to drop his gun. Dick charges, but too late. A twisted snarl precedes the sound of Jason’s body cracking against the wall, a moment before he’s crumpling down onto the floor.

That’s about when Dick reaches the demon, and it turns to meet him and gives him his first real look.

 _Big_. But not as big as some he’s fought. This demon looks almost completely human, which is reassuring. It’s the ones that look inhuman that you’ve really got to worry about. White hair, one single visible eye (the other is hidden by an eyepatch) and a hint of sharpened teeth as it growls menacingly, swiping at Dick’s face with clawed fingernails.

He ducks. Slides under the blow that would have taken half his face off if he let it hit, and strikes in turn at the demon’s side with one of his knives, aiming to scour over its ribs. Not fast enough. The demon twists out of the way, and now a few paces apart they turn to face each other again.

“I thought you were supposed to be injured.” Dick says, pulling joviality into his voice if not his stomach, which is twisting knots at the moment.

The demon snorts, “Your friend there underestimated how quickly I heal. Too bad for him, and you.”

Dick tightens his grip around his blades, “It’s not over yet, pal. Not by a long shot.”

His foe smiles at him indulgently, the same way parents smile at their children when they proclaim they’re going to catch Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. “Brave words, little hunter.” he raises his hand in a beckoning gesture, “Now come over here and prove them.”

Not much of a talker apparently. Dick can see why Jason struggled to get this one’s name. He grits his teeth in response, clenching his hands tighter around his knives. “Well, if you’re in that much of a hurry…” Dick springs forward, weaving around the attempted grab the demon makes for him in response. He stabs at its side, but it’s faster than it looks, again avoiding the blade.

All right, then. 

The next minute passes in a steadily escalating test of each other’s abilities. Dick uses every bit of acrobatic and martial art experience he has against the demon, certain more than once that the next blow will land. But every time he moves quicker, hits harder, it seems so too does his opponent. Claws catch his shoulder, knuckles his cheek. Dick grits his teeth against the pain blooming there, and worse, the steadily growing suspicion that he might actually in this case be outmatched.

Jason never gets back up.

Dick can’t spare him much thought, occupied as he is, but he catches glimpses of his curled, collapsed body and slack expression and has no other option but to resign himself to simply hoping Jason’s still alive when this is done. Any other choice will get them both killed.

It’s time to fight dirty.

Dick flips away, seeking to put some space between him and the demon. He’ll need at least one hand free of his blades for this, so not wanting to alert it to his plan by putting one back in its sheath, Dick instead throws the knife in the left hand at the demon’s head. It ducks, which gives him the perfect opportunity to reach into his pocket and pull free a small bottle of holy water unseen.

“Foolish, boy. Now you’re down a weapon.” the demon predictably gloats.

Somehow, he resists the urge to smirk as it charges him. Dick keeps his body turned just enough to hide his curled fist as he lets the demon get closer, and closer. Risky, but better than taking the chance of missing.

His heart pounds with adrenaline inside his chest as he sidesteps the blow, cutting in low with his remaining dagger. As he swings his left hand up high, smashing the bottle directly into the demon’s face. Dick expects a scream, or at least a curse in response. Instead, it’s his own voice he hears hiss in pain when the demon clamps a powerful hand around his right wrist, twisting it and forcing him to drop his remaining knife.

Then it begins to laugh.

Dick looks up just in time to watch the holy water evaporate off the demon’s face. Rising up in hissing plumes of steam and not leaving even a single patch of reddened skin behind. His mouth falls open, shock permeating every fibre of his being. By all rights, that should have burned its flesh down to the bone. It should be blind and incapacitated; a perfect chance for him to end it while it can’t react in time. 

Instead, the demon continues to laugh, dark and low at his misfortune. “Not bad. Sacrificing a weapon to get in close, underhanded tactics.” The grip around Dick’s wrist suddenly tightens, reminding him of its presence as delicate bones grind together. He tries to pull free, but it’s already too late. “It might have actually worked too, were you facing a lesser demon.”

The last of the water steams away, and Dick watches with growing horror as the demon’s appearance changes, features growing more inhuman by the second. Its eye begins to glow a brighter gold as its ears grow pointed, and from its head the buds of horns appear, gradually coming down to curl beside its face.

 _Not good_ , Dick thinks, panicking. _Not good at all._ Only those of the higher orders possess such features. The kind of demons that hunters normally band together into large groups to face, perhaps with a witch or two as background support. It seems Jason had vastly underestimated his foe, and now looped Dick into his mistake as well.

“Surprise,” it drawls, through a smirk filled with sharp teeth.

The hand releases him. Dick draws a sharp breath, but doesn’t have any time to do more than flinch backwards as claws reach for his face. Except that before the demon ever touches him there’s a sudden intense pressure on his shoulders, bearing him to the ground where his knees crack into the concrete flooring. It doesn't give there, and his back bends under it as he’s forced further down until he gets both hands on the ground to brace against the pressure. His arms tremble for a second, but they hold. He sucks in another gasp of air, fingers curling into the concrete as he struggles to connect the dots.

There’s nothing on his back. There’s pressure, a _force_ , but no other sensation. Magic, it has to be, in its purest form; raw and unfiltered.

A whisper of cloth indicates the demon is kneeling down next to him. Dick tries to lift his head to look at it, but struggles until strong fingers wrap themselves in his hair and yank it up for him. He hisses, holding a larger cry of pain back behind his teeth as he glares at his opponent. “You…” he wheezes, “.. playing with me… with him. Why?”

“Because it amused me to,” the demon replies, eye flicking over to Jason for a moment. “I wanted to see what you were made of.”

Dick grunts as it pulls his head back further, until the strain starts to become almost unbearable. He wonders if it’s about to break his neck, or tear his head from his shoulders. At least those will be quick ends.

Instead the demon smiles, tracing a clawed thumb down the arch of his throat with gentle enough pressure that he doesn’t even feel a sting. “Do you know what time it is, little hunter?”

He shakes his head the tiny fraction he can instead of voicing the thought that springs to mind, which is that the question sounds like the set up to a terrible joke. But he thinks about it anyway. Late encounter with Jason at the bar, just after eleven. Conversation there, long walk afterwards… It has to be close to midnight, at least. Midnight is a powerful time, but usually only witches and specific rituals make use of it, not demons.

“Maybe an easier question then. Do you remember a demon you hunted by the name of Grant?”

Dick stiffens, eyes widening, and the demon chuckles.

“I thought you might. You made a deal with him, remember?” The thumb taps against the lump of his Adam’s Apple, and the demon’s smile curves to something altogether more sinister. “Eleven years and the promise of avenging your parents’ murder, in exchange for, well… you know the rest, don’t you?”

“ _No_.” He has to gasp for air, but Dick makes himself breathe in against the pressure on his back and lungs. “No, I— I killed him.”

“He was my _son_ ,” the demon says, its voice turning sharp for a moment before easing back to the amused drawl. “What he possessed became mine when you put a blade through his heart. So, _Richard John Grayson_ , as of today you have something that belongs to me.”

Dick’s mind reels, staggered by the sudden knowledge. He’d thought he was safe. For _years_ , he’d believed he was free of the mistakes of his youth, and now it feels like the very gates of hell are creaking open under him. A yawning maw ready to suck him in; mind, body and soul. Dick opens his mouth, desperate to make some kind of denial, but before he can form even a single word another voice interrupts him, thick with its own particular brand of incredulity.

“You manipulative _bastard_ ; you could have just told me, you know?”

There’s only other person in the room who could have said that.

The demon snorts as it turns its head to look at Jason. The pressure holding Dick down alleviates, but nowhere near enough for him to free himself. Even if it had, Dick doesn’t think he could move right now. He’s frozen with shock. The sharp stinging realisation of betrayal.

Of course, he thinks bitterly. Misfortune always comes in threes.

“Hush, pet. You did well enough.”

Jason circles close enough for him to see, snorting but not outright arguing, maybe wisely. He still _looks_ human; the bruises and burns still mark his exposed skin, and there’s nothing to give away any sort of otherworldly nature. There are humans that serve demons, willingly or not, but Jason is a known, respected hunter and that isn’t the sort of reputation you fake. You can’t just say you’re a hunter and expect to be believed, you need stories, contacts, proo—

Dick stiffens even further, recalling one of those stories he’s heard and drawing up short in the face of it.

The demon stands, dragging him up into a high kneel with the grip in his hair and pulling a grunt of pain from his chest. It’s a little easier to breathe with the somewhat eased pressure, but not enough that he doesn’t have to fight for it. Jason steps forward when the demon’s free hand beckons him closer, and Dick stares in horror and growing understanding as the demon wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in, teeth coming in against an arching throat.

He thought it was just rumors. Just a stupid story some jealous hunter had cooked up to discredit another’s reputation. But he’d heard, once, that Jason had died; been to Hell. _Come back_.

He’d laughed it off as a lie. Maybe that was a mistake.

There’s blood between them when the demon pulls his teeth away from Jason’s throat, but with the swipe of a tongue it’s gone. Like a ripple, the skin around the touch heals as Jason leans into the hand on his neck, eyes shifting closed and the line of his shoulders easing down into a relaxed slope. It’s horrifying and sickening and Dick feels himself tremble.

“What _is_ he?” he asks. Jason’s eyes flick open, the last traces of bruises fading away.

It’s the demon that answers though, with a squeeze of the back of Jason’s neck and a nearly soft kiss to one temple. “The best of my hounds. Why don’t you show him what makes you mine, boy?”

“Sure.”

Jason moves, shifting to shrug his jacket off both shoulders. The shoulder holsters follow, then his shirt, and finally he partially turns to show his back to both of them. The demon’s hand slides to the front of his throat instead, clasping across it and holding him there, half against its chest. Dick’s attention catches on the thin black choker resting at the base of Jason’s neck, secured at the back by a locking clasp. The jacket and shirt must have hidden it from him before, or it must be spelled somehow to not be visible beneath normal clothes.

The demon drops him with a flick of his wrist, and the force behind it nearly knocks Dick over before he catches himself on one hand. He stares upwards as the demon’s hand lifts, fingertips touching the clasp of that collar and then sweeping down the line of Jason’s spine in one long slide. He arches forwards under the touch, back curving with a quiet sigh, but Dick’s focus is on the marks brightening into being in the wake of the demon’s hand. Twisting, black and golden runes in some of the most complex designs he’s ever seen, painted along the length of Jason’s spine from the base of his skull all the way down to where they vanish beneath his jeans. There’s enough power in them that they glow in the dim light, and that glow is what tips him off to the matching circles of runes around Jason’s wrists.

There’s a dim memory in the back of his mind, something read in a book and stored away in a corner and never needed again. The placement of the runes is… familiar. Dick knows that there’s _something_ that he’s only vaguely remembering, something important that could tell him what those runes mean. Obviously it’s powerful magic, and highly skilled, and the demon had said… The demon said it made Jason _his_.

It hits him in a sudden flash, and he feels nearly numb when he breathes, “That’s a soul binding.” He’s never seen one in person before, never even heard of it actually being _used_.

Finicky, _old_ magic. Precise spellwork with no room for error and ‘death’ as the most common result of any accident. But if it works, if you get it together (and if he’s remembering the details right), the reward is absolute control. He’s also pretty sure that this particular ritual can’t be done without permission and consent. Souls can’t just be used or taken at someone’s whim, they have to be sold, have to be—

Given.

“You chose this,” he accuses, gaze rising to the side of Jason’s face before it turns to look at him and he can actually meet the other man’s blue eyes.

There’s no shame in Jason’s gaze, no flinch back at being confronted with what he’s done. He holds Dick’s eyes, only curling his lip back a little to bare his teeth. “Yes, I did.”

“How?!” The word explodes out of him, “How could you do that?! Give yourself to that… that monster!” Dick’s anger blazes, pushing back reason and the logic that tell him that — given his situation — it might be better to stay quiet. “How many have you helped him kill?!”

Jason’s lips pull back further, and it startles Dick when he actually _growls_ , sounding less like a human and more like a beast. “Enough that I could rip your throat out without blinking, _Dick_.”

Dick recoils at the threat, but the demon only laughs. Its hand lifts back up, catching Jason once again by his collar and tugging his head down against its shoulder. “Easy, pet.” It soothes, then smiles at Dick, “Don’t worry about him, he only bites when I tell him to. Isn’t that right, boy?”

Another growl, quieter this time, but Jason doesn’t fight the hold. In fact, he leans into it, half-closing his eyes as the demon’s fingers move into his hair. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Dick grits his teeth. He feels sick in more ways than one. He needs to get out of this room, this house; to warn the rest of the world about Jason. But the moment he even thinks about moving, Dick feels that terrible pressure come down on him once again. 

“You’re not going anywhere, boy.” the demon tells him, “Don’t forget, you belong to me now.” It touches its lips to Jason’s temple before pushing him forwards. “Go on, pet. Be a good dog and relieve our new ‘guest’ of his weapons.”

The pressure remains on Dick as Jason steps forward, circling around him with a critical eye. “Touch me and I’ll kill you.” Dick hisses at him.

Jason snorts, completely unimpressed by the threat. “I’d really like to see you try.”

The demon is moving away, crossing the room to a shadowy piece of furniture that Dick can see _just_ well enough to identify as a bed. Implications he does _not_ have the time or spare attention for with Jason stalking around him.

“Why don’t you?” it throws over one shoulder, as it settles onto the end of the bed. Jason’s head lifts, brow drawing down into a frown as he looks at the demon, who only smiles and raises one hand.

Fingers snap, and Dick feels the pressure on his back vanish.

It’s a single precious second’s advantage, and without hesitation Dick makes full use of it. He launches himself sideways, crashing into Jason’s legs and sending the other man toppling to the floor with a yelp and a wild flail of limbs; hitting the ground with a solid enough _smack_ that Dick knows he must be winded. Moving quickly, he straddles Jason’s waist and draws his arm back to punch down at him.

Jason curses, whether at Dick or his master (or both of them), he’s not quite sure. His head smacks back against the concrete under Dick’s first blow, but he avoids the second, striking back in turn as he heaves his body up in an attempt to throw Dick off. Dick doesn’t let him, though, turning his head to lessen the severity of Jason’s knuckles striking his jaw and holding onto his position with his thighs. He catches Jason’s wrist in one hand, wrenching it to the side before attempting to take advantage of the opening by punching him once again.

He’s not expecting to Jason to twist his head to the side to avoid the strike, then snap it back round to sink his teeth into his wrist.

“Fuck!” Dick shouts, revulsion galvanising him to try and pull back from the bite, but his action only makes it worse. Jason snarls as he clamps his jaws together tighter, forcing his teeth deeper and deeper into Dick’s flesh.

Panic fuels him. Dick lets go of Jason’s wrist to plunge his other hand into his jacket, wrapping his fingers around the first object he finds there — another bottle, it turns out — and then smashing it down into Jason’s face.

The tactic works far better here than it did on the demon. Jason may not be affected by holy water, but broken glass hurts him well enough. He lets go of Dick’s wrist, roaring in pain, and Dick has a bare second in which to feel relief before strong fingers latch onto his hair and use the grab to hurl him to one side.

He hits the floor, _hard_. Instinct tells him to roll, putting more distance between him and Jason. When Dick rises into a crouch, it’s to see Jason mirroring his position, teeth bared with blood running down his face from where the glass shards are lodged in his skin. It’s definitely bloody, and clearly painful, but he missed the eyes. He isn't sure whether the feeling that twists his gut at that discovery is relief or not.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Jason hisses.

Dick smiles grimly, “Not if you just stand there all day, I won’t.”

Maybe it’s not wise to goad him, but considering a demon just claimed possession of his soul, Dick’s inclined to be a little reckless. After all, what the hell else does he have left to lose?

Jason growls and launches himself forwards across the space between them. Dick can feel his right wrist throbbing as he tightens his hand into a fist and throws it at Jason’s face. He gets the brief satisfaction of feeling the punch connecting before he’s bowled over, knocked back under the other hunter’s greater weight. They roll together, kicking and hitting. At one point, Dick catches a glimpse of one of his knives, lying a mere foot away from him, but when he tries to lunge for it Jason grabs hold of the back of his jacket and uses the grip to drag him back.

The next thing Dick knows, Jason’s hand is in his hair again, and all of a sudden the concrete floor is rising up to meet his head at an alarming rate. Stars flash across his eyes when they connect, and by the time he’s done blinking away the infinite cosmos, it’s to find himself on his back with Jason above him, roughly stripping him out of his clothes.

His jacket is already gone. His boots too. His shirt follows next, and Dick recovers enough to try and kick out at Jason as he pulls off his jeans. To no end though, as Jason just grabs his legs and forces down the uncoordinated effort, pulling the fabric free until Dick’s left in nothing but his boxers.

He thinks that might be the end of it, but then the demon’s deep voice says, “Everything, Jason. Can’t be too careful, after all.”

Jason’s hands still for just a moment. Blearily, Dick watches him purse his lips. “Stop,” he tries to say, “Don’t…” but the moment ends as Jason ignores him, doing as his master says. It may be his eyes playing tricks in the wake of what could actually be a concussion, but Dick could swear the soul binding marks on his skin glow brighter in that moment.

Finally naked, Dick is pulled up from the floor by Jason, and dragged over to the bed where the demon is waiting. His head is all but shoved between its legs, shoulders bracketed by its knees and his arms quickly grabbed at each wrist and twisted behind him by Jason’s powerful grip. He hisses in pain at the clamp of fingers over his bitten wrist, entire arm jerking in pure reaction even though he’s still too dizzy to really try for an escape. Fingers slide into his hair, and he’s almost thankful when they tighten enough to pull his head up because at least that means his face isn’t just inches away from a crotch he doesn’t want anything to do with.

The gold of the demon’s eye is bright, the same shade as the bindings on Jason, and its smile is something between amused and indulgent as it looks down at him. “Not bad, little hunter.” comes the faint praise, “You made my pet bleed; most don’t manage that much.”

Dick spits at it, saliva flecked with blood. A pathetic gesture, but about the only rebellion he can manage held in the position he’s in. “Fuck you.”

The demon’s eye narrows, and the fingers in Dick’s hair tighten, until claws are digging into his scalp and blood trickles down from the punctures they leave behind. “Insulting the one who owns your soul? Not a wise move, boy.”

“You’re going to hurt me anyway,” Dick says, hissing at the pain, “What else do I have left to lose?”

“A good question.” With its free hand, the demon wipes the glob of spit off its trousers. Dick flinches back as it then smears the mess down his cheek, deftly avoiding his clumsy attempt to bite. “Why don’t we find out?”

*

Dick feels like he’s dying, and that would be a mercy, were it not for the fact his soul is no longer his own.

He’s lost track of how many hours it’s been since the demon — Slade, he’d eventually found out its name was — started on him. Every inch of his body hurts from head to toe. Bruises mottle his skin where it isn’t stained with blood, and elsewhere…

He doesn’t want to think about elsewhere. About the other fluids coating his flesh, inside and out.

“I think you’re losing him again, boss.” A now familiar voice states. Dick cracks open his swollen eyelids to look where Jason is sat on the floor nearby, watching him dispassionately. Careful, measured blankness has been his default expression for most of the night, except when his master has ordered him to participate.

Slade hums in agreement, fingers coming down to run through Jason’s hair. “Not for long.” the demon says, as its other hand lights up with golden energy. Leaning forward, it presses it against Dick’s head, and Dick cries out as his body is flooded with healing energy.

Even when demons ‘help’, they hurt. 

Broken bones knit themselves back together, cuts close, and the bruises fade until they’re only a shadow of their former selves. By the time it’s done, a fresh sheen of sweat covers Dick’s skin, and he can’t say he’s grateful for the experience. 

“Stop,” he chokes, when Slade hauls his head up again, “Please, no more… let me go, please…”

“Shh,” it’s a mockery of a soothing sound, as the backs of the demon’s knuckles move to run down his cheek in a slow caress. “Easy, boy. No more for today. I’m very impressed with you; you’ve earned a rest.”

Dick almost sobs with how relieved he is, but he’s still aware enough to remember that he should never trust a demon. Mercy is never anything but a sham, and there’s always some worse motivation behind any offer of kindness. Somehow he holds the sound back, though he can’t quite repress the shiver that accompanies it.

“Thank you.” he whispers instead, because as filthy as the words make him feel, it’s better than giving Slade any excuse to change his mind and start the cycle of pain back up again.

His attempt at gratitude makes Jason’s eyes narrow, but the demon only smiles. Dick shivers as it continues to stroke his cheek, “Good boy,” it hums, “I think it’s time we showed you where you’ll be sleeping, don’t you?”

It’s not a question he’s meant to answer, so Dick keeps mute as the demon stands up, gently pushing Jason away from him in the process. A moment later Dick’s hauled up onto his feet, before pushed forwards into the other hunter’s arms.

“Carry him.” Slade orders unceremoniously, and it’s a good thing it does, because Dick doesn’t think he has any hope of walking under his own power right now.

“What am I, a pack horse?” Jason mutters under his breath, but says nothing else when the demon turns to look at him. He simply huffs and hauls Dick’s arm around his shoulders while wrapping his own around his waist, pressing their naked skin together.

The walk out of the room, and then down the hallway outside, seems to take forever. There are even more dizzying twists and turns than there were when Jason first led him down here to his doom, and unlike before, Dick is far too exhausted to try and map them all in his head. It’s all he can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Jason curses under his breath every time he stumbles, but at least always takes the time to haul him back up instead of just dragging him forwards the way Dick expects him to.

At some unknowable point, the light in the hallway changes from the cold white of electricity to burnt orange, the colour of a dying sun. The world seems to blur before him, and Dick hisses as heat begins to prickle the soles of his bare feet. Shortly thereafter, hard concrete gives way to rough sand; the world opens up around him, and Dick gasps as he finds himself looking up into the expanse of a blood red sky, punctuated by the occasional flash of lightning.

“What…” he whispers, unable to comprehend what he’s seeing, or understand how he got here. “Where…?”

“Welcome to Hell.” Jason says beside him, humorlessly, and without ceremony.

 _Hell._ The word forces Dick to focus; to pull some semblance of coherency back into his mind. All around him, spears of rock rise up into a twisted formation like something out of a Lovecraftian nightmare. The wind that howls through them sounds like a human scream, and Dick swallows bile back down his throat when he realises that in this place it’s entirely possible that the sound is exactly that.

“No… no, I can’t be down here. I can’t…” he can feel panic creeping in. “I’m a good person! I’m a—”

“You sold your soul to a demon.” Jason says sharply, cutting him off. “Kinda nixes out the whole good or evil question.” His grip tightens around Dick’s waist as he continues pulling him forwards, “Just be grateful you’re in Slade’s territory and not the killing fields.”

Dick tears his gaze away from the monstrous landscape to look at him then, but Jason keeps his eyes on his master, who is walking ahead of them to what looks like the dark opening of a cave — or the mouth of a calcified leviathan. The demon stops at the edge of it, arms folded across its chest as it waits for them to catch up.

When they do, Dick can hear _growling_ coming from within the pit, accompanied by the thick scent of rotting meat. He’s so badly afraid now that he’s shaking with every step, teeth grinding together in his jaw hard enough that it feels like they’ll break and fall out at any moment. 

This isn’t right. None of it is right. He doesn’t deserve _this_. One stupid mistake when he was a boy, a mistake he thought he’d corrected, and now… now…

“What—what is… what’s down there?” he looks at Jason as he asks it, because despite his hatred for what he’s done Dick still finds him a safer prospect to talk to than his master. But it’s Slade who answers, deep voice brimming with self-satisfaction.

“My kennels.” Slade gives a sharp, lilting whistle in the direction of the cave. “Jason, make it clear that our new boy isn’t a meal, would you?”

At the sound of the whistle, the growling cuts off. Dick watches as eyes become apparent in the darkness at the cave’s mouth; red glowing gems, set back against pitch black fur. He’s seen hellhounds before, even killed a couple with blessed silver bolts shot from a crossbow at a distance, but never this many all at once, and never this close while they were still alive. Seeing the corpses was one thing (smoldering bodies that eventually burned themselves to nothing more than ash; nice and convenient), but the actual breathing animals…

Just the sheer size of them is terrifying. The biggest stands almost as tall as he does, and the smallest not much less than that. Dick doesn’t doubt that if they wanted to they could rip his head from his shoulders, and it’s with infinite horror that he realises that this is where Slade means for him to sleep tonight. With _them_.

He’s so caught up in that, he doesn’t realise Jason is slipping his arm off his shoulders until he almost falls to the ground.

“Pay attention, Grayson,” Jason says stiffly, a coarse look thrown back at him as Dick struggles to keep his feet by himself, “You might learn something useful.”

Before Dick can say a word, he’s striding forwards towards the hounds, back straight and shoulders squared, with his hands held loosely at his sides. Unafraid, Dick realises, his head still spinning with a lack of understanding.

The dogs’ ears and tails lift as Jason gets closer, and Dick’s nerves twist as he’s certain he’s about to see him ripped limb from limb before him. But instead, Jason marches right up to the lead hound, baring his teeth in a snarl that should look puny next to the dog’s, and grabs it by its ruff, using the hold to drag the massive animal to the ground. To Dick’s great shock, the dog goes with the motion, letting itself be forced onto its back with belly and throat exposed. A submissive whine escapes its throat as Jason lets out another inhuman growl, and behind the lead the other hounds soon follow suit, crouching down and whimpering before him.

What the fuck.

Dick’s so engrossed in what he’s seeing, he doesn’t notice Slade stepping up behind him until it’s too late. An arm wraps around his waist, tugging him back against a broad chest, and he freezes as the demon’s lips brush his ear, “Time to meet the rest of your new family, little hunter.” 

The next thing Dick knows, he’s being forced forward. “What are you doing?!” he protests, “You can’t be serious. You can’t mean me to—”

“Oh, but I am.” Slade says, “All my dogs have to know their place with each other, Dick. Jason learned his long ago, and now it’s time for you to learn yours.”

He realises suddenly, that Slade referring to Jason as ‘the best of my hounds’ wasn’t just a figurative title. The demon had meant it literally. 

“No!” Dick protests, digging his heels in. “No! No I won’t be a dog for you! I won’t—”

“You’ll do what I say.” Slade hisses, hand suddenly on Dick’s throat, squeezing tight to cut off the rest of what he was about to say. “You’re mine, boy. You either learn that now, or…” The demon lifts its head, the point of a horn catching in Dick’s hair as it looks forward at Jason, “Well, I might have to take some extreme measures.”

Dick tracks his gaze to the glowing marks of the binding on Jason’s back and wrists. Wheezing tightly, he gasps, “You... can’t bind a soul that... isn’t willing.”

The laugh let loose in his ear is a low, cutting thing, and it draws a shudder even before Slade actually speaks. “I don’t need your permission to bind a soul that already belongs to _me_ , little hunter.” A claw drags across the front of Dick’s throat, “You may want to remember that going forwards.”

A sudden shove throws Dick to his knees in front of Jason and the rest of the pack. He can breathe again, but it’s not a relief that lasts long. Dick sees Jason’s hand reaching for him, expression twisted into something feral, and spurred on by desperation, digs into a reserve of energy he didn’t know he still had.

He smacks that hand away from him, trying to push back up from his knees. He’s not thinking about how futile this all is (he’s in Hell, even if he gets away, where is he supposed to go?), only that he can’t go down there. Can’t be left alone with these _beasts_.

Dick only has a second to register the sudden anger in Jason’s expression before he’s letting go of the dog in his hold and lunging at him. Dick tries to roll out of the way, but he’s too slow. Jason’s hand snatches at his ankle, yanking his foot out from under so that he goes crashing face first into the sand. Coarse grains grind against the sensitive areas of his naked body, and Dick barely has time to groan before he’s being pulled backward.

Twisting onto his back, he kicks with his free leg at Jason’s chest, striking him directly. Weak as he is, though, the blow has little power, and Jason barely flinches before grabbing that leg too in his other hand and pushing it down.

With the memory of the last few hours of torture fresh in his mind, having both of his legs pinned in Jason’s hands prompts a sudden vicious, visceral reaction in Dick.

He lashes out with his hands as Jason looms down over him, only peripherally aware of the dogs now circling them. He punches, then claws at Jason’s face, forcing him to close his eyes to save them from Dick’s nails. Jason’s teeth snap at his hand again, but Dick remembers that tactic. This time, he moves it out of the way, jabbing his fingers at Jason’s throat instead.

With such a soft target, he doesn’t have to hit hard. Jason’s eyes fly open, bulging as he gasps and wheezes, choking from the blow. Dick is quick to take advantage of the opportunity to wrest his feet free of Jason’s grasp and attempt to put some distance between them, but he doesn’t even make it five feet before one of the dogs is standing in his way, eyes glowing brilliant scarlet as it snaps its jaws in his face to drive him back. Dick backpedals rapidly, but the dog doesn’t advance any further. It seems content only to stop him from escaping, at least for now.

Heart hammering from his near brush with those sharp teeth, Dick is unprepared for the sudden weight that slams into him from behind.

There’s no grace in Jason now, only anger. They go rolling through the sand, kicking up a small cloud around them. Dick throws himself into the fight, striking out any way he can, but in the face of Jason’s aggression, desperation can only carry him so far along.

His jaw feels like it cracks when Jason punches him. The first blow is rapidly followed by a second, then a third. A wave of dizziness accompanies the sudden pain, until Dick can barely tell which direction is up and which is down. Just like that, the final burst of his adrenaline-fuelled energy fails him, and a wave of exhaustion rises up to take him once again.

Fingers grasp his hair, yanking his head back and forcing his neck into an arch. A second later, Dick feels the sensation of teeth at his throat; small, square, human. Then Jason bites down, and all he can manage in return is a small, plaintive moan as he feels his skin split open and blood run down his throat.

For a moment, all Jason does is hold him like that, growling roughly in the back of his throat. The sound is garbled, not as strong as it would be had Dick not punched him there earlier, but it’s effective nonetheless. Then, after one final shake of his head as if to drive the message home, Jason pulls back from him, licking his lips clean of blood in noticeably canine fashion.

From the left of them, comes the sound of slow clapping.

“Good boy,” Slade says as the demon appears again in Dick’s vision. He watches blearily as it cups the side of Jason’s head, drawing him in against its hip. “I think that got the message across nice and clear, don’t you?”

Jason doesn’t say anything, only nods with a grimace. Dick takes some small, distant satisfaction in noting the strained way that the other hunter is breathing, though he knows it won’t last for long.

Around them, the dogs start to draw in closer, closing the circle they’ve already made. With a firm tug, Slade draws Jason back off of Dick, and he squeezes his eyes shut, certain that in a second the dogs will be on him, But instead it’s the demon’s hand he feels again, lifting him up and dragging him to the mouth of the cave.

“This has been entertaining,” Slade says, “But I do have other work to do, so I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the rest of the pack now that they know you’re not food.” Dick’s eyes widen as it holds him over the edge of the steep slope behind him. Almost tenderly, the demon leans in to kiss him, licking the blood from his lips. “Until tomorrow, Dick.”

Dick gets a last glimpse of Jason watching him from where he’s knelt on the sandy ground, holding his throat, then he’s falling, tumbling down into the cave. He’s barely come to a halt on the stinking bone and straw covered floor before the dogs are surrounding him, their glowing eyes the only light in the dark except for what sunlight manages to filter down here from the cave opening above.

Somehow, Dick manages to sit up, supporting his weight on shaking arms, but before he can make any further move, the largest one is there, shoving its nose into his face. After smelling his hair, it snarls at him, baring huge fangs to the air.

Dick swallows thickly.

All he can do is hope that back on Earth his friends will notice he’s missing. That maybe they’ll be able to track him down and free him from this place and the demon holding him here. But until then…

Dick digs his fingers into the straw, searching until his right hand seizes upon a piece of bone with one jagged, sharp edge to it.

He has to survive.

**Author's Note:**

> [Skalidra's tumblr](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Firefright's tumblr](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


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